


18

by gillasue345



Series: SPN Prompt Drabbles [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff then angst, Pre-Series, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young!Dean Winchester, sequel to 3, young!sam winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1323940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillasue345/pseuds/gillasue345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18. Write about *this pairing* with *this AU* Safiyabat said: AU-county fair. Dean is 17, Sam is 13. See chapter 3 for some context. Not really an AU or a pairing. Sorry. But it will be a sweet and fluffy (hopefully) pre-series ficlet. </p><p>August, 1996<br/>John didn’t keep his promise. They didn’t go to a fair that summer, or the year after or the next. Eventually Sam stopped asking to go and Dean wrote it off as yet another drunken promise that would never be kept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	18

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Describe the smell of the Impala.  
> 2\. Write about a pre-series headcanon.  
> 3\. Write from the point of view of your least favorite character.  
> 4\. Write from the point of view of your favorite character.  
> 5\. Write your idea of how the series finale should go.  
> 6\. Describe a “Winchester special” motel room.  
> 7\. Write a songfic for *character* with this *song*  
> 8\. Write about a pairing you don’t ship.  
> 9\. Write a coda/missing moment from *this episode*  
> 10\. Write from the point of view of the monsters the Winchesters hunt. What bedtime stories do they tell their children?  
> 11\. It’s *this character’s* birthday. What happens?  
> 12\. Write from the point of view of a dead character as they watch over the brothers.  
> 13\. Write an spn fic with the word “water” as the inspiration.  
> 14\. Describe Bobby’s library.  
> 15\. Most heartbreaking headcanon.  
> 16\. Write cavity inducing fluff about *this pairing* (in progress: deancasbenny)  
> 17\. Write about *this kink* with *this pairing*  
> 18\. Write about *this pairing* with *this AU*  
> 19\. Write meta about *this scene/episode/character*  
> 20\. Genderbend *this character* How does it change them? What remains the same?  
> 21\. Write about Dean going to a baseball game with Ben.  
> 22\. What if *character* hadn’t died? Write about what would be different.  
> 23\. Write about *this body part/feature* of *this character* Write it from the point of view of someone who loves them.  
> 24\. Write from the Impala’s point of view.  
> 25\. Write from the point of view of *this angel*  
> 26\. Send me something else if you want.

August, 1996

John didn’t keep his promise. They didn’t go to a fair that summer, or the year after or the next. Eventually Sam stopped asking to go and Dean wrote it off as yet another drunken promise that would never be kept.

That is, until the summer before Dean’s senior year.

They were sitting in the latest crap motel, trying and failing to keep cool. Sam, lanky and awkward in his newly sprung adolescence, sat bare chested against the AC, a wet t-shirt over his head to stave off the oppressive Texas heat.

School would be starting in a few weeks, but Sam and Dean both knew that they wouldn’t be around to attend Sweetwater High. Dean had picked up a few weeks work on a restoration job at the local mechanic’s shop while John had taken care of a few vengeful spirits around town, and with John’s work almost done and the restoration almost complete, Dean knew that they would be out of here way before that first morning bell.

Dean was climbing the walls. The cable was out in their room, and besides a small burger joint that probably needed to be closed down for health violations, a movie theatre with one ripped screen and a community pool that had banned him for smoking on grounds, there was nothing to do in Sweetwater Texas, Home of the Mustangs.

“I’m bored,” Sam lamented in the kind of whiny, cracked voice that only a thirteen year old boy could pull off.

“You and me both,” Dean said from his position on the couch. He had shed his t-shirt long ago, lying with both feet over the armrest in just a pair of ripped basketball shorts.

“Let’s go swimming,” Sam suggested. Dean smirked. Sam had a crush on Lydia Simmons, the afternoon lifeguard, and he used any and all excuses to go swimming.

“Can’t, remember? We got kicked out of the pool,”

“No, _you_ got kicked out of the pool. I can go any time I want,” Sam replied smirking.

“Then go, if you really wanna.” He wasn’t in any mood to listen to his brother complain about boredom.

Besides, if Sam wasn’t around to bitch and moan about the heat, maybe he could catch up on some sleep… maybe he’d call Sarah... But he rejected that thought pretty quickly. She was starting to look at him like Robin used to, which was usually the point that Dean ducked out of the relationship. Better to push them away before they realized what a fuck-up he was and moved on.

And he was too tired to fool around anyway. John had had him hustling pool every night this week. The heat made the marks at the bar fast and loose as they drank their way into the early morning, and Dean was raking in the money.

“You know Dad’d kick our asses if I went off by myself, and I’m not looking to get gun cleaning duty _again_ especially since I apparently can’t clean them well enough so I have to do it over,” Sam grumbled.

“You shouldn’t have mouthed off, Sammy, and I helped you the second time, it didn’t take us that long at all.” 

“Three hours Dean! Three hours I could have spent at the library researching where that Clancy dude was buried for Dad. And of course, since I didn’t have the research done that was one more thing I didn’t do right.”

“Researching my ass. You just wanted to hook up with Lydia, she works the evening shift over at the library doesn’t she?”

“Shut up, you know he has it out for me. It doesn’t’ matter what I do, nothing is ever good enough for him.”

“That’s not true.”

“In what world is that not true?”

Dean sighed and tried to change the subject. “Well what do you wanna do then?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well when you figure it out, princess, let me know. In the meantime can you shut up so I can catch some sleep? Here,” Dean tossed him a battered Latin textbook from a small pile on the side table. “Translate that old benediction for Dad. That should keep you busy for at least a few hours.”

Sam groaned. “Why do I always have to do it?”

Dean yawned into his hand. “Because you’re the brains of this operation, and I’m the oldest, so what I say goes, Bitch.”

“Jerk!”

Dean smirked. “Wake me up if Dad comes home, will ya?”

“Yeah sure,” Sam said, absentmindedly.

Dean stood up then and wandered over to the bed that he and Sam shared. They were getting too old to share a bed, but Dean didn’t really mind it. After growing up in such close proximity of one another for so long, things like privacy and boundaries really didn’t exist for the Winchester family. Most of the time they stuck to their sides of the bed and it worked out fine.

But some nights Sam would have The Nightmare, the one he never remembered, but it always left him reaching out in the darkness to cling to his brother. Dean never talked about those nights, rather he just soothed his little brother, running his fingers through sweat-soaked strands and humming a song his father could no longer bear to hear.

Dean pressed a quarter into the Magic Fingers machine and collapsed onto the bed, letting the soft hum of the machine lull him to sleep.

By the time he jerked awake three hours later, the sun was sitting low in the sky. He looked over to the table to find Sam passed out across the table, drool pooling atop his book. Dean sat up and stretched.

The heat had broken during his nap. Sleepily, he ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes with a knuckle. Beside him he heard a chuckle.

In a flash, Dean’s gun was out and the safety was off, ready to face his foe. Sitting across from him on the other bed was John.

Dean relaxed and exhaled. “Dad, I thought you weren’t going to be back until tomorrow.”

“Didn’t meant to scare you son,” John said, walking over to Sam and poking him awake. “Come on, get dressed.”

“What’s up?” Dean asked as he pulled on a t-shirt.

“I’m taking you boys someplace special tonight,” John said.

“It isn’t more training is it?” Sam groused, wiping the drool from his mouth.

“Nope,” John tossed a flyer down onto the table with a grin. “There’s a fair in town and the heat wave broke. Let’s go,” he said animatedly, and Dean narrowed his eyes. _Who are you and what have you done with my dad?_

“It’ll be fun!” John’s eyes were clear and bright. Almost manic. He’d shaved. A smile curved his lips in a way that Dean hadn’t seen in far too long.

Dean wondered who his dad was trying to impress. But it wasn’t like there was anything else going on. And he’d learned to cherish the days that his dad was in a good mood.

“No _way_!” Sam said as he looked down at the wrinkled paper with garish colors.

Dean tried to hide his enthusiasm. “Sounds cool,” he said, nonchalant; he pulled out the cell his dad had given him a few months previously and called Sarah.

They dressed quickly then, in jeans and t-shirts. Dean slipped a blade in his boots, _just in case,_ he thought and followed his dad and brother out to the car.

It was a short drive to the fair grounds. John was playing Bon Jovi and singing along, a rarity. Dean wasn’t sure what was going on, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The fair wasn’t what Dean expected. Of course, having never been to one, he didn’t really have a frame of reference, but he was expecting more… home town charm…. And not as much manure.

They parked Baby in a field outside the main entrance and walked up to the vendor there, a pretty brunette girl wearing a neon vest. John winked at her as he paid for their tickets and she blushed.

Their dad handed them each $20.00 and set them loose, then headed over to the beer garden.

Right by the entrance was a barn filled to the brim with the winning animals at that year’s show, along with a petting zoo and puppies for sale. Sam immediately gravitated towards the golden retrievers in their pen, laughing as one of the more eager pups nipped at his fingertips, trying to keep his attention. Dean went off to explore the midway. He smirked as he took in the carnies selling their wares.

Most of the games were rigged as hell, but he could probably make bank at the balloons and the target shoot. The guy working the balloon stand was so high he was practically floating, and the teenaged girl behind target shoot kept glancing his way and blushing. Easy Marks, his dad called them.

Maybe he’d try his luck later. Getting money was always something that was on Dean’s mind; especially after the fiasco the previous spring in New York. Since then, he’d been extremely careful with money, never spending more than he could afford to lose. He’d learned his lesson. And his dad had taught him that any opportunity can turn into a money maker. Dean leaned up against the fence of a spinning bear ride that was crawling with kids to watch his marks.

Sam joined him shortly after, stinking of dirty dog and funnel cake. There was a bit of powdered sugar on the corner of his mouth.

“What’cha doing?” Sam asked, stuffing the last of the cake in his mouth.

“Was thinkin’ bout making some dough later. You wanna help out?”

“Aw, Dean, I don’t wanna pick pocket tonight. I just wanna ride the Ferris wheel and have some fun. Can’t we do that?”

“Sure, and who said anything about pick pocketing? I was actually thinking about giving the carnies a little taste of their own medicine.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever man, where’s Dad?”

Dean nodded over to the beer garden where John was chatting up a short blonde woman.

Sam watched them for a moment before shaking his head. “I think we found the reason why Dad was in such a good mood,” he said bitterly.

“Hey, lay off. It ain’t like he’s a damn monk,” Dean said, automatically on the defense.

“Would it kill him to spend some time with _us_ though?”

Dean felt a guilty pang. Sarah would be here in a few minutes, and Dean had planned on slipping away from Sam long enough for a little nookie in the funhouse, but the way Sam was glaring at their dad gave him pause. Wouldn’t he be doing the same thing if he just dumped Sam off with their dad to go hook up with a girl? And didn’t they say that a girl would never come between them ever?

“By the way, did you call Sarah?” Sam asked, as if he’d been reading Dean’s mind.

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and grinned sheepishly. “Uh… maybe? But look if you just wanna hang out, just the two of us—”

“—don’t worry about it Dean. I get it.”

“Maybe you should call Lydia?”

Sam shrugged. “Nah man. I’ll just go get an armband for rides or something. Just meet me by the Ferris wheel before the demolition derby starts and we can go check out Miss Easy Mark over there.”

“Why don’t you go check her out now?” Dean suggested, smirking at the way Sam flushed lightly then glared at him.

“Maybe I will!”

“Go get your flirt on, Romeo,” Dean said as Sarah’s familiar blonde curls and bright red cowboy hat made his way towards them.

“Yeah whatever,” Sam said as he went. “See you in an hour or so?”

“Sounds good, little brother,” Dean clapped him on the shoulder and approached the latest girl of his dreams.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said as he embraced her.

“Hey baby,” she replied, leaning up onto her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “Where’s your brother?” she asked, looking around. They rarely got any time alone together, what with Dean always having to watch Sam. He’d become sort of the fly on the wall with them, and Dean liked it that way.

With Sam there as a buffer, he didn’t have to get too close. He could pretend that this was just a fling that would fizzle its way out, instead of a real opportunity for a relationship. But he didn’t have to think about that right now. Right now he could just be happy with a pretty girl on his arm and twenty bucks in his pocket.

“He’s chatting up a carnie, c’mon, let’s go in the funhouse,” he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Unfortunately, the funhouse was _occupied_ , so they headed over to a low hanging building by the stadium. Firemen were spraying water in the dirt race track to make mud for the demolition derby and people were starting to take their seats in the covered stadium chairs. Dean took Sarah’s hand and they walked around the prize winning produce, quilts and crafts.

Dean pulled Sarah into a deserted hallway at the end of the long building; he pressed her against the wall. They kissed for a while, the thrill of being caught at any moment fueling their excitement. But Dean didn’t want to take it any further than that.

Sarah seemed to understand. She pulled away when the announcer came on over the intercom, declaring the start of the demolition derby, kissed him gently once more and went off to meet up with her friends. Sarah invited him to come over later that night. Dean made a noncommittal sound and she nodded sadly.

“I’ll see you around Dean Winchester,” she said, as she walked around the corner into the main hall.

Dean got a burger from the 4H convenience stand and made his way up to the Ferris wheel to find Sam already waiting for him.

“Do you wanna go on the Ferris wheel?” he asked, and Dean smiled.

“Sure, why not?” Sam handed him a ticket and the climbed aboard.

By now night had fallen. A roar from the crowd sounded as they climbed to the top.

The midway had mostly cleared out now, with the start of the derby. When the wheel stopped at the top, they had a view of the entire fairgrounds. Dean was clearly uncomfortable, gripping the side of the cart tightly.

Sam noticed and tried to distract him by pointing out a young couple making out behind one of the midway games.

When the ride started back up, they began to talk about their hustle plan.

Long ago, Sam and Dean had created a shorthand between the two of them. They had their go words, their codes, their traditions. Sam had taken to it like a fish in water. It was a game to them. But when Dean started to teach Sam about the more nefarious parts of their lives: the stealing and the lying, the scams, Sam had become more reluctant.

Dean had tried to explain its necessity, but Sam always had one more question for him. _Why couldn’t Dad just get a job like a normal person, then we wouldn’t have to steal? Why can’t dad spend his money on fruits and vegetables instead of beer, Dean. Mrs. Leslie said that a kid needs a healthy diet. We don’t have a healthy diet. Why can’t dad let us stay just this once in one school all year long?_

Dean never had answers to these questions. Usually he just brushed them off, never questioning his dad’s authority or heroism. But Sam wasn’t like that. It was his very nature to question everything, and it was one of Dean’s favorite things about his brother. He wished he could be more like his little brother in that way. But Dean knew what he was; a hammer, nothing else. And he’d given up on a normal life long ago.

Sam never wanted the life of a hunter. He was always talking about that elusive ‘someday’ where he finally escaped the life. Except he never said “I.” it was always “When we get outta here.” And every time he said it, Dean’s heart broke a little bit more. Because he knew that one day Sam was going to leave, and he wouldn’t be able to go with him.

Because of dad. John needed him in a way that Sam could never understand. And Dean had given up trying to explain it to him.

The ride ended and they had a plan.

Which totally would have worked, dammit, if John hadn’t decided to crash their party.

Sam and Dean had just about gotten to the crux of the con. The girl, Jessi, was completely smitten with Sam, happily flirting back, while Dean purposely lost at the balloon game.

Dean was just about to open up the topic of winning back his losses when John stumbled over to them. His eyes were glassy, and his cheeks were ruddy over his graying beard.

John slapped an arm over Sam’s shoulder and ruffled his son’s hair.

Dean’s fingertips started to tingle, his pulse reacting. Anxiety. He swallowed as Sam visibly stiffened under John’s touch.

 Dad hadn’t been this drunk in over a year. Not since last year when John had gone off on a bender a few weeks after Dean had gotten back from Sonny’s. Dad and Sam had gotten into it again about his soccer schedule.

John had gone off for three days that time, not answering his phone or leaving the boys with any indication that he was still alive.

By the time John had stumbled back into their roach infested motel room, Dean had been about ready to call Bobby.

Dean watched carefully as the girl’s demeanor instantly changed.

Her warm smile suddenly disappeared; seemingly unconsciously she moved back, placing her hand carefully over the pocket of her apron that held her cash.

Sam shrugged his dad off, rolling his eyes.

“You boys having fun?” John slurred, leaning heavily on the game trailer.

Automatically, Dean moved forward, pressing his hand to his Dad’s arm.

“Yeah Dad, it’s been a blast. Say why don’t we go get something to eat huh?”

“Why don’t you stop telling me what to do, boy.”

“Dad, c’mon let’s go.”

John snatched his arm away and glared at his oldest son. But Dean pressed on, and finally pulled him away from the trailer, smiling apologetically at the girl.

“C’mon Sam, we should probably get home,”

“I don’t wanna go home!” Sam said angrily.

“Sam, buddy, let’s just get home.”

“We’ve only been on one ride! Dean, I wanna stay here.”

John started to mumble beneath his breath, Dean only caught the words ‘ungrateful’ and ‘spoiled’ before his dad turned away and started to stumble off towards the parking lot.

“Dammit, Sam. Let’s go.”

“One of these days, Dean, I hope you stand up for yourself against him. I really do,” Sam said as he walked off, leaving Dean behind, confused and hurt.

They made their way back through the midway, Dean stopped to buy a fried pie for himself and a frozen strawberry lemonade for Sam with his remaining cash.

Sam was leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed. John was passed out in the backseat.

Dean sighed. He handed over the lemonade and Sam made the barest attempt to smile in thanks.

They drove in silence back to their hotel room, Sam drinking his lemonade in the petulant way only a teenager could pull off.

Dean wanted to say something, anything to make it better. After all this was their first ever county fair. He wanted it to be a good memory. He and Dad had been butting heads much more lately. Often he’d had to pry them apart from one another during their fights. Dean knew any defense of his dad would be met with a scoff and sneer.

So Dean turned up the music. He didn’t even complain when Sam popped out his Led Zeppelin and put in Nirvana.


End file.
